How to not hate photos of yourself. (#realbloggerbeauty)

I hate pictures of myself.

A lot. 

Which is strange, because 75% of the time I walk out the door, I feel good. 
Not only about what I'm wearing, but about how I look in what I'm wearing--
 a difficult feat.

Then again, it only seems difficult when analyzing the situation from the future. 

For example: You know how when you dig up an old photo of yourself from 5th grade - pink and purple braces-clad, butterfly clip covered, patchwork flare denim dragging over the pink sparkly jellies you had had had to have - and how you suddenly flash back to just how AMAZING you felt in that outfit? How you were CERTAIN that the new foreign kid, Peter, was going to write you and only you a Valentine's Day card - complete with a holographic Britney Spears image and a heart(ish)-shaped sucker?

And ultimately (and unfortunately): how you are now completely unable to understand how you ever (ever ever) felt that way??

Picture that process, but with the feedback time of an hour rather than 15 years.

That's how I feel every. single. day.

I don't often leave home over-analyzing the thickness of my thighs, or how I reflexively close one eye when I laugh, or have an awkward mole on my left eyebrow, or some extra pudginess on my stomach. 

But suddenly, photos like these ones come back, 

and I DO. 

Which, as a blogger who publishes photos of herself incessantly, is very difficult. 

And it's not like I don't have mirrors. 

I do.

Two of them. 

Three, if you include reverse camera mode on my phone (WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE BROCCOLI IN MY TEETH)

But there's something about analyzing a photo in hindsight that serves as the absolute bane of my self confidence- the downfall of my body image peace. 
but why, I don't know.

Maybe a photo makes it easier to compare. Maybe, retroactively analyzing my body from an outside point of view makes it easier to set myself directly against those other women whose photographs I so admire. 

Or maybe I've just grown so accustom to my mirrored reflection,
 that only a photograph can reveal how I truly feel about myself(?). 

Whatever the case may be, I'd prefer my own skewed reality over this persistent self doubt. 

I'd prefer to relish the moment rather than resent the past. 

But I have a blog. That is centered on what I wear. And thus on how I look. 

And so it seems I have one of two options: 

1. distance myself from my photographic image, and pretend that the ab-less, midriff-baring, girl in this photo is somehow someone separate from myself,
 or...

long shirt: Derek Lam for Kohl's, crop top: ASOS, shorts: vintage, shoes: GeeWaWa Footwear, watch: La Mer

2. accept that Yes- I did feel badass leaving the house like this- 
and Yes- the photos themselves are badass- 
and so Yes- I should continue to feel badass, regardless of how much I don't look like Erin Wasson naked on the beach when comparing our (in)comparable shorefront photos. 

...

And I think we both know which one I'm aiming for. 

This post is part of the #RealBloggerBeauty project, in which we all talk about how we're not perfect. (started by Maya of Charmingly Styled)

Some crop-tops for the #2s amongst you
(or, of course, those of you with abs):

re:named, JOA, Clover Canyon, BCBGMaxazria, Torn by Ronny Kobo, Bec & Bridge, Nightcap Clothing, Nicholas

Photos by Life of David Photography